


Tea and Comfort

by deathwailart



Series: Dragon Knights [OLD] [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Gen, High Fantasy, Implied or Off-stage Dubcon, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Motherhood, Tea, Teen Pregnancy, Unwanted Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tanis and her mother finally talk when Tanis is pregnant; her mother comes to certain conclusions Tanis won't for years but no matter what, she'll always love her daughter and she can wait until her daughter loves her back.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tea and Comfort

It's trite to say but Ragna loves all her children even if it is not required of her and deemed to be unnecessary in Jormsen where they call it a weakness that saw them crippled and crushed beneath the heels of elves. But she has carried each child in her body for the best part of a year, she has sweated and strained, she had bled and wept and held them in her arms as she prayed for them. This was her choice, to have children, to breathe life back into the world and she heals too, knows her herb lore better than anyone else save the elder who taught her but now cannot work due to the arthritis that has afflicted her hands. Even magic cannot stop the march of the years. Ragna teaches the children herb lore and she always feels a fierce pride when it's her child that does well. When she tries to calm her unborn children, restless, tossing and turning, kicking and shoving, she whispers to them in the night, tells them that rosehips are good for colds and flu, good for when old joints swell and ache, chamomile will help them sleep, yarrow to help a bloodied nose, a wet cough, bile flow and to make you go. It's silly to think they can hear her but the first time she had a child, frightened and alone, she began the ritual and so she carries on with it and chatters when she works alone with her herbs and magic. She was chosen to have a child with one of the last of royal blood because she'd already birthed a daughter and her mother had had many daughters – daughters stayed in Jormsen, daughters stayed and raised their children here and taught them all that needed to be taught and so she was the one chosen. He had been more nervous than her, this boy who would be a Dragon Knight and who loved the young man who came with him. She'd sweetened both their teas to help with this and in the end they'd laughed together and he had told her about his life, about places she had never been to. He introduced her to his best friend (more than a best friend, everyone had eyes) and though she wasn't close to the young woman who'd lain with said friend, they had spent time together as they waited to confirm if there were children.  
  
Jormsen loved every child born and expectant mothers were doted upon but normally if it was one of the young Dragon Knights, they were not expected to be around much. Or so it went. Hákon hovered, he asked if he was allowed to touch her belly and Brynjar too. It annoyed her at first. She'd had one child already without someone in the shadows as if she wasn't trusted but in time she came to understand him and how excited he was – only seventeen and this was the only time he'd get to spend with his daughter most likely.  
  
(She hadn't known then that the survival odds for becoming a Dragon Knight were so low or that this would be the only child he would bring into the world. Dragon Knights were a closely guarded secret and it wouldn't be until years later that her daughter, _their_ daughter, would explain it all to her.)  
  
Tanis was special. Tanis named by her father in defiance of tradition, a young man with potential if he outgrew his foolishness and listened to the words of those more experienced than him. He'd cried when he'd held her in his arms and he'd kissed Ragna's forehead, laughing and sobbing and thanking her and using what he could of his own healing magic. She'd laughed at him too, smacking his arm as she took back their daughter – and Tanis was theirs, not his, not hers, even if the daughter before and all Ragna's other children were _hers_ \- to nurse her. Brynjar had a son and called him Torrin and a month later they were Dragon Knights and gone. As soon as Tanis was old enough she was raised in the nursery with all the other babies as Ragna drank her healing brews and recovered but she couldn't help but check on her more than was necessary, wondering who she would favour, what would become of her and if what footsteps she would follow in.  
  
Tanis is their child, she comes to realise when she watches her grow. She is Ragna's fierce loyalty to this place and her father's heart with her determination to become a Dragon Knight after him even if she does not know it as a girl. Once it would have been her undisputed right but now there are so few and she is a girl of noble blood in Jormsen where their last remaining castle lies carved into the mountain from which Solace descended. Ragna watches this girl struggle and fight, proving herself time and time again until she goes to the Fangs. Ragna is amazed and proud in a way she should not be but that is _her_ daughter up there, her flesh and blood and magic and she is going to do great things, she will be the sword and shield of their people. Torrin's mother, Sigrun, became her friend in the end, a talented smith who taught her son the same art. A handsome boy, Torrin, unruly curls and broad shoulders and almost every young man and woman in the village follows him where he goes. She does not expect to see Tanis back in the village until she has passed her trials or ended her training and yet one day when Ragna goes out to the front of her shop expecting a familiar face asking for a remedy or her services she instead finds a daughter who had never been close to her.  
  
Tanis comes to her because there is no one else she can turn to, comes to her white-faced, trembling with her eyes wide and Ragna feels the breath stolen from her; they look so much alike, the same dark hair (straighter than Hákon's black waves), the same jaw (the chin again, from her father) although she has no idea where the eyes come from – Ragna and Hákon both have blue eyes and Tanis has hazel. Ragna remembers little of her mother who died in childbirth whilst Ragna was still learning her lessons and her father was a passing nomad who stayed a time in Jormsen then disappeared off to his old life. He might be dead too. That's the fate of their race, to die or disappear with no one to mourn them. Neither of them say anything because what is there to be said? Children are not encouraged to be particularly close to their parents and parents are urged to be nothing more than a person who gave them life so that they can focus on having more children, allowing the elders to take responsibility and raise the next generation to fill roles than need filling. It's been over a year since Ragna last had a child and she's privately hoping he was her last; forty is fast approaching and the last couple of children have left her drained and exhausted. She's done her duty in that respect and now, if she carefully takes the right herbs she won't find herself pregnant again – she wants to teach, wants to take on an apprentice or two and it's harder to do it when she's pregnant and tired with swollen ankles and a pounding head.  
  
She smiles after a moment, tentative and she might not know much of hunting but her daughter reminds her of a wild animal ready to bolt and holds out a hand.  
  
"Drerannen Tanis," she greets, unsure of what to expect. Tanis doesn't seem to know what to say either as she open and shuts her mouth a few times, looking everywhere but Ragna with a helpless sort of frustration that makes something inside of Ragna ache. "Can I—"  
  
"How do you know who I am?" Tanis finally asks sharply, eyes narrowing with suspicion.  
  
_Because I'm your mother_ , she wants to say but mother has no meaning here. "I gave birth to you, I taught you when you were a little girl. I keep track of all my children – almost everyone does. You had such a talent for herb lore," she trails off, remembering a serious but bright little girl, not this young woman in front of her who seems so hurt and angry.  
  
"To be a Dragon Knight," there's a catch in her voice, a panicked hitch that makes Ragna frown, "you have to be the best at anything that helps you to survive."  
  
It's the way it is in Jormsen but it has always struck Ragna as cruel that human life comes down to survival and that it's been that way for four hundred years with no sign of change coming soon.  
  
"I'm surprised to see you," she continues when it becomes clear that Tanis has nothing further to add, "I thought that-"  
  
"I'm pregnant." As she says it, she crumples, anguish written across her face and Ragna cannot move fast enough to gather close this girl she hasn't held since she was a baby, warm and soft and innocent into her arms. She's taller than Ragna and harder but that makes sense – she's seventeen and has been raised to survive in the woods, to pull her own weight and now she's been trained to be a weapon to serve and protect. Ragna has been pregnant many times. Her own body is soft and made of curves, clad in homespun fabrics, browns and greens.  
  
"You're a Dragon Knight, or in training..." Ragna feels numb, there is something going on here that she doesn't understand because the girls who wish to have children are prepared, they help with the little ones, they learn something they can do even when they're close to giving birth – weaving, cooking, healing, mending, working with plants or livestock, even tending to the archives.  
  
"It's required of us – don't you know that?" Her daughter's tone implies that Tanis clearly believes she should know and that she does indeed know.  
  
"I knew it was required of your father for his noble blood," she says wondering if that's what this is about.  
  
"Noble blood," Tanis scoffs, lip curling, "what does that matter when we're ruled by the elves?" She has a point but Ragna shouldn't let her know that. She should argue with her. She should remind her what the elders teach. She can't do that so instead she remains silent and looks away. "Silence speaks volumes," Tanis mutters. Ragna winces as though struck. "All Dragon Knights _have_ to have children. They almost tried to deny me this even though my _noble blood_ entitles it to me."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
There's a long pause and the fight goes out of Tanis, sagging heavily and she's only seventeen, she shouldn't look so old and weary.  
  
"You really don't, do you?"  
  
"No," Ragna reaches out to touch Tanis on the arm only to have the girl flinch away. "Come, sit down. I'll make tea."  
  
"Fine," Tanis says eventually with a sigh and lets Ragna lock the door behind her, leading her through the room where Ragna works to the smaller one she sleeps in, taking a seat on the bed as Ragna bustles around to make tea. She should ask how far along she is so she knows what she might help with but there's more to talk about than that so she opts for ginger. It'll settle both their stomachs. When she returns Tanis has removed her sword belt to set it beside her but she's stiff with her shoulders set and her head held high as if she's about to march into battle instead of having a conversation over tea with her mother.  
  
"Did they send you to me?" Ragna asks carefully, pulling a chair through because it's far too soon to sit next to Tanis, invading her space.  
  
"No, I knew who you were and," she swallows, staring down into her cup, "you're the only person I could go to. The only one who—I mean I thought that you would know, that you would understand." They both know what Tanis isn't saying: that Ragna would help.  
  
"What did you mean before – about being a Dragon Knight and your noble blood?"  
  
Tanis takes her time drinking her tea, fingers tapping the cup as she does so. "Didn't you wonder why they never made a Dragon Knight a Dragon Knight until their child had been born?"  
  
"Your father," and Ragna is slipping already but father is easier when he's long gone, "spent time with me but that was unusual – he was from the south, not here, Moja. There was another one with him, he fathered Torrin."  
  
"The blacksmith?"  
  
"You know him?"  
  
Tanis shrugs. "He works in the forge in the Fangs, I think the elders were disappointed he was more interested in making weapons than wielding them. What does that have to do with this?"  
  
"Nothing," Ragna admits, "I just wanted to let you know a bit about them."  
  
"I know enough. Noble blood, his name is Hákon, he's a Dragon Knight like I will be."  
  
_He loved Brynjar with all his heart, he was young and foolish and optimistic. He cared about you before you'd even been born._ Things she can never say but wants to dearly. Maybe one day. Or maybe she'll take the words to the afterlife with her.  
  
"He named you, you know. Hardly traditional but he named you and Brynjar named Torrin, he...he wanted you to succeed, to ensure nothing would hold you back."  
  
"Maybe it was enough. But I didn't- I wish I'd known about _this_." There's a gesture towards her own body, avoiding touching her stomach. "They told me that none of us have a choice in this," she says quietly, "that our lives will be too dangerous and that we must always do our duty. We need numbers and so every one of us, before we can complete our training has to have a child or else we find something else to do with our lives and know that we shame our ancestors and all those we lost." It's clear from her tone that she's repeating a lecture she's been given and the dread that's been building since she first saw her daughter with that lost, frightened look about her rises to choke her.  
  
"Did someone-" Ragna asks though it makes her sick to think of it and to think that the elders might allow it. They've always had the choice here, always encouraged and supported if and when they have children and to think that someone might have been forced upon anyone makes her furious.  
  
"No!" Tanis replies quickly, leaning forward with flashing eyes. "I chose, so did he. It's Torrin, if there's anyone here I could call a friend it would be him.  I trust him.  It-"  
  
"It made sense," Ragna finishes numbly. It's not the relief it should be. "It seems like you had little choice though," she can't help but add.  
It's the wrong thing to say if the narrowed eyes are anything to go by and when Tanis speaks, she's taken aback by the venom in her tone. "I chose. I chose this to become what I want to be, to be _something_. I want to be a Dragon Knight, I want to defend our people and be strong. It's a choice. Yes or no, have or have not."  
  
"Your elders must be proud of you," she replies neutrally after sipping her tea to cover for her shock and the unexpected heartbreak. This has always been a hard life and Ragna has never in thirty-six years questioned much of it because she always knew and understood and perhaps this is why they don't directly raise their children, why marriage isn't encouraged, why they're taught to think of their people, their community, their home. She wants more for this young woman.  
  
"I wouldn't be where I was if they weren't."  
  
Another silence falls, uncomfortable and oppressive. Ragna doesn't know what she wants to say because she doesn't know how she feels or what she should feel other than angry on her daughter's behalf for the way she can devote herself to duty and nothing else. Ragna's duty has been hard. It's aged her from the strain on her body but she enjoyed it, took great pride in bringing life into the world and did it because she wanted to. There's something wrong about this and the way Tanis seems to think of herself. Or the way she _doesn't_ think of herself.  
  
"Were you scared?" Tanis ask when Ragna says nothing.  
  
"The first time?" She waits for the nod before continuing. "Yes. I knew what to expect – I said I wanted to have children, I liked to help in the nursery when I was still a girl, I played with children, read to them – I was prepared. I was ready. I knew what it would be like."  
  
"I don't feel like I'm me. I get angry, I'm sick, my head hurts, my body is changing, I cry," she sounds ashamed of that. Ashamed that her body is being human. Children cry, Ragna cried when she was pregnant and when she gave birth but people don't cry or don't admit to doing it here. The elves and dwarves and that damn war stole so much from them even if she isn't as angry about it as others. Oh the raids hurts, the disrepair, the ruins, the way it's forever altered their way of life – that will always hurt, it will never stop hurting but she can't be angry about something that happened centuries ago. Not in a visceral way. This is like an old bruise, something she can forget about until it's poked and prodded.  
  
"How many months?"  
  
"Three," Tanis replies, "another six to go."  
  
"The first time I was pregnant it seemed to last a lifetime," Ragna admits with a small smile. "I was the same age you are – it seemed to take forever to find out," Tanis snorts quietly at that, "and then when I was sick I could barely get out of bed. Every smell had me gagging. Ginger helps, so does peppermint. Do you know how to make tea?" It's not a common lesson – herbs are primarily for healing potions or salves, not for teas to sip at when someone else can make them and she doubts that the elders in charge of the Fangs would bother much with something like this. _When life here is hardship, what need is there for comforts?_ The bitterness is hard to swallow as she forces a smile so her thoughts won't betray her. "Would you like me to teach you?"  
  
"Yes." There's hesitance, as if Tanis is surprised she's being offered a chance to accept or decline a lesson. "I would like that."  
  
"I can come visit you in the Fangs – it's very small here and I liked my privacy when I was expecting."  
  
Tanis shifts on the bed, sliding herself along until she's closer to where Ragna sits across from her. "Was he there?"  
  
"He was. It drove me mad. We were both young but I'd already had a child and the man isn't always required to be around."  
  
"I told him I didn't want to see him," Tanis says with a frown, "I like to be alone."  
  
"Did you enjoy it?"  
  
"I lay back and thought of Jormsen." There's a hesitation and the blush creeping across pale cheeks makes her look too young to be an expectant mother. "Did you?"  
  
"I did. He was very gentle. Hesitant but skilled. I taught him a few things, he taught me some in return. We laughed a lot."  
  
"And it wasn't uncomfortable?"  
  
"I'd already had a child by then."  
  
"What about the very first time?"  
  
"It was a long time ago but there was some discomfort – not everyone knows how to be gentle, I was tense, nervous. But it was enjoyable. It gets better with practice and the right person." She reaches across to squeeze Tanis' hands that are plucking at the end of her tunic sticking out beneath chainmail.  
  
"What if you never enjoy it?" Tanis asks, refusing to look up, "or if you don't find the right person?"  
  
"You're young. You have plenty of time." She only wishes that the first time – or the first few times, it's usually at least a week with fertility brews drunk before and during and after – had been more enjoyable or at least not the ordeal she senses it must have been given the questions. "Not everyone likes men, some like women instead, some like both and some, well some don't like either. Or they like them but don't like physical intimacy like that." If there's something to be said about Jormsen, it's that it's open. Everyone is expected to have at least one child in their youth but personal preferences are not to be used as judgement. "Hákon and Brynjar were lovers, I think they were Fated Ones."  
  
"No one believes in Fated Ones anymore," Tanis scoffs, folding her arms angrily. "It's an outdated notion, it's what got us all killed and left us with this."  
  
"Is that what you believe?" Ragna asks quietly, unable to stop some of the pain she feels out of her voice, her question almost a whisper. "That love leaves us weak?"  
  
"What else has it done for us?" Tanis struggles to sound furious. She's trying, Ragna can hear it and see it with her intent stare and her mouth almost a snarl but she sounds lost and strangely empty. As though trying to justify this to herself more than to Ragna. "You know our history."  
  
"Love has kept us alive Tanis. I loved you, I love you still the same as I love every child I've had. I love my home, I love my friends."  
  
Tanis pulls away from her touch, biting down on her bottom lip hard, struggling to keep it all inside. They'd trained her to do this. Trained her to be a soldier. A sword and a shield and magic crackling through the air, a hunter in the forests, a defender of their ways. To stamp down on the person. She could strangle them. She'd never been inclined to violence, not with her birthing bed and healer's hands but now she wanted to hurt them but why? They'd all been raised the same way, to do their duty.  
  
She was too old to be thinking this way. And yet she wasn't old. Not really. Not even forty yet. Only old in that her body wouldn't be able to keep bearing children – with her magic and her knowledge, barring some disaster she'd have decades ahead of her to impart wisdom and her skills.  
  
"Love is nothing where duty is concerned. But you're a healer, you're a-" she cuts herself off but Ragna shakes her head and sighs.  
  
"A mother. Tanis, if you think motherhood is soft or easy? You're wrong. It's hard. It's going to hurt in the end, it's messy, there are tears, sweat and blood – it's more of a battle than you realise." She sighs again, rubbing at her temples because none of this is the way she thought it would be. "I always thought doing your duty meant doing it out of love, how else can you give up so much? To lay down your life for someone or something else?"  
  
"It's not love! You do your duty whether you like it or not."  
  
"And you will do things you dislike if you love."  
  
Abruptly, Tanis gets to her feet, buckling her belt. "This was a mistake."  
  
Ragna doesn't try to stop her. Let her be angry with Ragna if it's the only way she can be angry. Let her have this moment. Ragna loves her daughter enough to bear it. She counts down days and weeks, making teas – ginger, peppermint, raspberry leaf, dandelion leaf and nettle – and salves that she takes up to the Fangs herself once a week. They don't talk but a note is sent, amulets and almost a year later when there are twins ( _twins_ , something to rejoice over, Gudrun and Gunnar, a son and a daughter) to watch over. Now that her eldest children have children and now that one is a Dragon Knight, Ragna is relieved from further children and takes on her apprentices, a young man and a younger woman.  
  
"The first lesson is tea – tea and the comfort it provides either from what's in it or from the tea itself can help to heal things nothing else can." She puts love into what she does and waits for the day when Tanis can understand that her mother has always and will always love her.


End file.
